A Quaint Old Cornish Cure
by Imipak
Summary: A short story blatantly based on a song based on a poem based on a traditional piece of music based on an ancient custom.


Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Disney, quaint old Cornish towns, 19th century poems or the songs based off them.

Kim was in hospital. She had been for some time. A shattered leg. They had caught the Global Justice agent responsible. Twenty years for attempted murder, another ten for conspiracy. Fifteen years for the ten co-conspirators. The case revealed a hatred within the agency of her success, her celebrity, her team. Director Director was forced to resign.

Outside the hospital, a crowd of nearly a quarter million had held vigil. Once the seriousness had become apparent, a month-long halt by villains and (most) criminals had been called. For, in the words of ex-villain Drakken, the good guys had no business turning traitor. That was the sole preserve of villains and they guarded it jealously. This was not how it was done. Besides, Kim Possible had offered the only real challenge. They hoped she would recover. The surgeons were amazed she hadn't, ascribing her emotional state as a factor.

A month later, Kim and Ron had retired to Cornwall in Britain, donations and Ron's royalties covering the cost. They'd called it rehabilitation but only the public believed it. Her appearance was sufficiently changed by grief, pain and crutches that nobody recognized her. She changed her name and hid, bitter and ripped apart inside. Ron had heard there was a festival in the village they were in and he hoped it would break the black mood. Besides, festivals meant food.

"Yum, food!" said Rufus.

 _ _As I walked home on a Summer night__ _  
_ _ _When stars in Heav'n were shining bright__ _  
_ _ _Far away from the footlight's glare__ _  
_ _ _Into the sweet and scented air__ _  
_ _ _Of a quaint old Cornish town__

 _ _Borne from afar on the gentle breeze__ _  
_ _ _Joining the murmur of the summer seas__ _  
_ _ _Distant tones of an old world dance__ _  
_ _ _Played by the village band perchance__ _  
_ _ _On the calm air came floating down__

Ron was walking home. It was late in the evening and the sky was clear. Sounds were carried great distances in the still air, so at first he paid no attention to the faintest murmuring. He had been exploring the local cuisine that day. The food was interesting, but Cornish pasties needed more cheese. He was going to invent a new type.

 _ _I thought I could hear the curious tone__ _  
_ _ _Of the cornet, clarinet and big trombone__ _  
_ _ _Fiddle, 'cello, big bass drum__ _  
_ _ _Bassoon, flute and euphonium__ _  
_ _ _Far away, as in a trance__ _  
_ _ _I heard the sound of the Floral Dance__

He heard the parade before he saw it. He was at the bottom of a hill and the sound of brass instruments filled the air.

 _ _And soon I heard such a bustling and prancing__ _  
_ _ _And then I saw the whole village was dancing__ _  
_ _ _In and out of the houses they came__ _  
_ _ _Old folk, young folk, all the same__ _  
_ _ _In that quaint old Cornish town__

 _ _Every boy took a girl 'round the waist__ _  
_ _ _And hurried her off in tremendous haste__ _  
_ _ _Whether they knew one another I care not__ _  
_ _ _Whether they cared at all, I know not__ _  
_ _ _But they kissed as they danced along__

The parade moved slowly past. As it did so, Ron noticed more and more people joining in wherever they could. It was very unlike anything he had experienced. Musicians at the front, dancers at the back, with revellers dancing with whoever was near.

No floats, no costumes, no groups vying for prestige. Nobody cared who was dancing with whom, it wasn't a status thing or a message thing, it was a having fun thing. And they were having a lot of fun.

 _ _I felt so lonely standing there__ _  
_ _ _And I could only stand and stare__ _  
_ _ _For I had no girl with me__ _  
_ _ _Lonely I should have to be__ _  
_ _ _In that quaint old Cornish town.__

His own pains and anxieties were being washed away by the clean, honest, open revelry. This wasn't the dancing common in America, he didn't know the rules, but he didn't care. None of that mattered. The music and the dance healed. He only wish Kim was here beside him, maybe have the pain healed for her, too.

 _ _When suddenly hast'ning down the lane__ _  
_ _ _A figure I knew I thought quite lame__ _  
_ _ _With outstretched hands she came along__ _  
_ _ _And carried me into that merry throng__ _  
_ _ _And fiddle and all went dancing down.__

He glanced up the hill.

No... Was that even possible? Even for a Possible?

 _ _We danced to the band with the curious tone__ _  
_ _ _Of the cornet, clarinet and big trombone__ _  
_ _ _Fiddle, 'cello, big bass drum__ _  
_ _ _Bassoon, flute and euphonium__ _  
_ _ _Each one making the most of his chance__ _  
_ _ _Altogether in the Floral Dance.__

Retirement would have to be postponed, maybe for another fifty years...


End file.
